


Ice Cream Yu-Topia

by MizushimaHikari



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Bad Cooking, Cute, Fluff, Food, Gift Giving, Ice Cream, Ice Cream Parlors, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Modeling, Mutual Pining, New York City, katsudon, pirozhki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9271409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizushimaHikari/pseuds/MizushimaHikari
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki is a manager at his family’s renowned NYC ice cream shop, Ice Cream Yu-Topia. It’s a pretty sweet gig, especially since that beefcake supermodel Viktor Nikiforov began frequenting the place…The Ice Cream Shop AU no one asked for.





	

Yuuri stretched, his aching arms reaching towards the ceiling. It had already been a busy day at Ice Cream Yu-topia, and it was still only mid-afternoon. 

Not that he minded the floods of customers. Ever since some restaurant-rating website crowned Ice Cream Yu-topia New York City’s best ice cream shop, people were rushing in. Business was booming. 

That fifteen-year-old kid he hired recently, Yuri Plisetsky, was chatting with a motorcycle-riding bad boy customer. His coworker Phichit was on break, probably taking selfies or making dank memes. As a result, Yuuri was working the front, talking to customers and scooping ice cream. 

The flow of customers slowed down as that mid-to-late afternoon lull settled in. Yuuri closed his eyes and breathed. His legs were aching from standing so long. 

“Hi!” a silky voice called. 

Oh, god, it was him! Yuuri opened his eyes to the most gorgeous man on Earth, Russian American supermodel Viktor Nikiforov. 

Sure, this wasn’t Viktor’s first time here – he came here twice a week or something, not that Yuuri was counting – and NYC was a concrete jungle full of bankers and businessmen, singers and celebrities and stars. 

But still! It was criminal of everyone else in the establishment not to behold the deity that had so lovingly blessed the universe with his presence. 

It didn’t seem like Viktor had come from a photo shoot. He wasn’t wearing a sheer lace trench coat, nor was he adorned in layers of sparkling eye shadow or lavender lipstick. No, he was wearing unassuming trousers and a simple azure V-neck T-shirt that accentuated his eyes. 

Yuuri could never decide if his eyes were sky blue or sea blue. Either way, they were the color of beautiful. 

Why did Viktor have to choose today to get ice cream? Yuuri had eaten a pork cutlet bowl for lunch, and he was sure he still reeked of deep-fried pork and caramelized onions. 

“Yuuri!” Viktor addressed with a wink. “It’s lovely to see you!” 

Wait, Viktor knew his name? Viktor had noticed him? This was unbelievable! 

Viktor raised an eyebrow and stared at Yuuri expectantly. Oh, shit. Had he just asked him a question? He looked like he had just asked him a question. This was bad; Yuuri had been too distracted by Viktor’s silvery bangs. 

Yuuri had to think. What would Viktor ask about? Probably what that offensive odor coming off his body was. 

“It’s pork cutlet bowl,” Yuuri answered sheepishly. 

Viktor’s eyes widened. “Really? Your favorite ice cream flavor is pork cutlet bowl?” 

Crap. Viktor asked about ice cream flavors? 

“Yes,” said Yuuri. 

Dammit, why was his mouth betraying him with its sheer stupidity?! 

Viktor grinned. “Okay. Do you have pork cutlet bowl ice cream?” 

“No.” Oh good, his mouth was finally cooperating with his brain. 

Viktor’s face fell just a tad. “Alright, Yuuri. Can I have my usual?” 

“Of course!” he replied loudly, garnering the attention of the other patrons. 

Before he could embarrass himself further, Yuuri busied himself preparing Viktor’s ice cream: a large waffle cone partially dipped in dark chocolate, filled with two massive ice cream scoops: one of Madagascar vanilla, and one of apple pirozhki. With as few words as possible, Yuuri handled Viktor’s transaction. 

As Viktor left with that heaping cone of ice cream, Yuuri briefly wondered how that man could consume so much sugar without gaining a pound. 

~

Next week, during the afternoon respite of another busy day, Yuuri was again working the front by himself. Phichit was on vacation to see some musical about ice skating and trading card games, and Yuri was sitting with the same brawny motorcyclist kid, sharing a banana split and smiling instead of glowering like he normally did. 

“Yuuri!” cried a familiar voice. 

It was him again! Viktor Nikiforov bounded through the door and up to the counter like an excited dog. 

“Yuuri! I have something for you!” Proudly, Viktor held out a paper bag. Inside, there was a nondescript white carton that was cold to the touch. Yuuri held the heavy carton, contemplating its weight. 

“Open it!” the supermodel insisted. 

Yuuri obliged, peeling off the lid to reveal a white ice cream with brown and yellow chunks mixed in. It looked exactly like Ice Cream Yu-topia’s “batter-up” ice cream – a cake batter ice cream with brownie batter and sugar cookie batter mixed in. 

Viktor gazed at him longingly, until at last saying, “Try it!” 

Yuuri wasn’t going to disobey this dreamboat anytime soon. He grabbed a plastic spoon and shoveled an excessively large scoop from the carton. Aware that Viktor was observing him with almost perverse pleasure, Yuuri fit the entire spoonful into his mouth. 

That was a bad idea. The ice cream itself was … rice-flavored. Yuuri could detect grains of hard, undercooked rice in the concoction. The yellow chunks were … scrambled egg? Whatever it was, it was crunchy and way too salty! And the brown chunks were bits of fried pork, except the pork was impossible to chew – it was like eating an eraser. 

This ice cream wasn’t merely a mistake. It was divine punishment, ice-cold revenge served from the flaming pits of hell. 

But he couldn’t spit this out when Viktor was looking at him with those precious puppy-dog eyes. Against every fiber of his being, Yuuri choked down the sludge. 

“So,” Viktor inquired, “Do you like it?” 

“Uhh…” 

“You said you liked pork cutlet bowl ice cream and didn’t have any, so I made some for you all by myself! I really hope you like it!” Viktor babbled. 

“Um…” 

“You don’t like it!” Viktor wailed. He leaned on the counter and hung his head in utter despair. “I don’t know what I did wrong. I followed the recipe exactly…” 

There was no way he followed a recipe exactly; most of the ice cream was very wrong. 

Still, a smidge of guilt gnawed at Yuuri’s conscience. He swallowed his pride and said, “Viktor, there’s something I need to tell you. I don’t like pork cutlet bowl ice cream. I’ve never even had pork cutlet bowl ice cream until right now.” 

“Huh? You told me your favorite ice cream flavor was pork cutlet bowl.” 

“I – I thought you asked another question, and the wrong words slipped out, and I was just too embarrassed to correct it…” Yuuri admitted. 

Viktor sighed. 

Oh no, he was going to lose a loyal patron, not to mention all future chances to interact with this man. 

“Yuuri.” 

Dear god, why did Viktor Nikiforov have to sound so sensual, even right before giving Yuuri a piece of his mind? 

“You lied to me and deceived me. I get that it wasn’t intentional, but I put a lot of effort into making you that ice cream,” Viktor said, sounding hurt but not angry. 

With a smirk and a sudden gleam in his eye, he said, “You’ll have to make it up to me.” 

“How?” Yuuri asked, dumbfounded. 

“Take me out to have pork cutlet bowls. I’m free tomorrow night.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like ice cream. I like Yuri on Ice. It’s a match made in heaven. 
> 
> Let me know if you like this story! I love hearing from my readers!


End file.
